Christine's Dressing Room - Phantom's Theater

Le lodge de Mlle. Christine Daaé
Christine's Dressing

Under Construction

You have heard the rumors. You know the story of the Phantom who haunts the Paris Opera, but you wished to see it for yourself. After begging a opera staff member to point out where her dressing room is located you try the door nob to see if it's locked. It turns slowly in your hand the door pops open. You enter slowly walking into Christine private dressing room, in front of you sits a little divan, a small tables with some items on it, a vanity table with a few letters and a vase full of dark red roses with a small black ribbon attaching a note to it. You see a large mirror next to the vanity and a small private bathroom with a cubord. To the side is a small book shelf full of books.

What do you choose to do?

1) Investigate the book self and read some of the literature
2) Read the note attached to the Roses
3) Look at the letters on the vanity
4) Investigate the little table
5) Sit on the divan
6) Investigate the large dressing mirror

| Poetry | Plays and Operas | Papa Daaé's favorite stories |

Poetry

Other Poems by Christina Rossetti
Remember
In the Bleak Midwinter
Shut Out
Twice
Goblin Market
In an Artist's Studio

Christina Rossetti

When I am Dead, My Dearest
When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.

Papa's Daaé's favorite stories

Little Lotte
Papa use to love to read from Le Roi Fialar. And filled my days with beautiful fairtales of the North.
Andreas Munch a Norwegian poet was the author of Little Lotte. It came from a collection of Scandinavia Poetry he and Jean-Louis Runeberg wrote called 'Le roi Fialar' or 'King Fialar' is the tale of the king on the mountain lake. There also a musical treatments of Munch’s poem. It was translated into German, Swedish, and English. Leroux’s source was actually a from a French prose translated by Hippolyte Valmore, Garnier frères, 1879, cycle des Récits de l’enseigne Stal/Stal's Storytelling Cycle «Den første Sorg» or "The First Sarrow"
'Le roi Fialar' Contains sixteen of the stories of the sign bearer Stôle, the poetic stories La Veille de Noël, Hanna and Le Roi Fialar as well as sixteen short poems. Eleven poems by other Swedish-speaking authors from Finland complete the collection. In this translation, according to the customs of the time, all proper nouns have been francized in order to adapt them to the rules of French pronunciation.
***All the credit goes to Anea aka Operafantomet for finding the original poem and telling me about it.***

The French Translation of Little Lotte

Le Roi Fialar, Précédé de Le porte-enseigne Stole La nuit de Noël, Hanna, Etc- By Johan Ludwig Runeberg

From Le Fantôme de l'Opéra

« La petite Lotte pensait à tout et ne pensait à rien. Oiseau d’été, elle planait dans les rayons d’or du soleil, portant sur ses
boucles blondes sa couronne printanière. Son âme était aussi claire, aussi bleue que son regard. Elle câlinait sa mère, elle était fidèle à sa poupée, avait grand soin de sa robe, de ses souliers rouges et de son violon, mais elle aimait, par- dessus toutes choses, entendre en s’endormant l’Ange de la musique. »

'Le roi Fialar'
Le premier chagrin d’un enfant

LA PETITE LOTTE pensait à tout et ne pensait à rien.
Oiseau d’été, elle planait dans les rayons d’or du soleil,
portant sur ses boucles blondes sa couronne printanière.
Son âme était aussi claire, aussi bleue que son regard.
Elle câlinait sa mère, elle était fidèle à sa poupée,
avait grand soin de sa robe et de ses souliers rouges ;
mais elle aimait par-dessus toutes choses un petit oiseau
que son père avait pris sur la neige, à Noël.
L’oiseau était sur le bord de la fenêtre,
transi par le froid et par le vent de l’hiver.
Il regardait, comme en suppliant, l’intérieur de la chambre bien chaude.
Le père alors répandit du grain devant lui,
l’attira puis le prit dans sa main pour lui assurer les soins et la sécurité.
C’est Lotte qui fut heureuse ! Elle eut la permission de soigner,
toute seule, et d’entretenir le petit hôte des bois.
Elle lui apportait sa nourriture, le berçait pendant son sommeil
et lui apprit bien vite à piquer le grain dans ses lèvres vermeilles.
Lui, reconnaissait sa voix et son pas léger,
et remerciait son amie par plus d’un chant joyeux.
Bientôt cependant il devint silencieux et triste dans sa cage :
il entendait le printemps l’appeler au fond des bois.
Alors il étendait ses ailes et voulait suivre la voie que Dieu lui avait tracée.
Petite Lotte souriait ; elle ne comprenait pas.
Elle fermait la cage plus solidement encore et donnait de l’eau et du grain à son ami ;
mais il ne voulait que la liberté sans laquelle il renonçait à vivre.
Un matin, de bonne heure, elle courut vers l’oiseau avec la nourriture fraîche ;
elle chantait en courant et se sentait l’âme ravie.
Mais quand elle fut devant la cage, sa chanson cessa tout à coup...
Le cher oiseau allongé, raidi, gisait sur le sol.
Elle le releva avec précaution, le baisa tendrement,
mais il resta froid et inanimé :
il n’y avait pas à s’y tromper ; sa tête retombait en arrière, la mort était dans ses yeux...
Lotte effrayée le laissa glisser et demeura immobile et silencieuse.
Et comme elle restait là muette, elle était très singulière à regarder.
Une larme se montra dans ses yeux claies,
la tendre rougeur de l’enfance disparut de ses joues ;
une douleur sourde pénétra peu à peu jusqu’à son âme.
Elle ne pouvait deviner ce que c’était que cette douleur...,
mais le chagrin gravait son premier rune sur son cœur ;
il imprimait profondément son image sur les traits délicats de l’enfant,
et cette image ne s’effaça plus avec la dernière larme.
Elle pensa à sa mère... non plus avec la même frivolité d’hier ;
mais un crêpe noir tombait sur l’aurore d’un jour nouveau ;
car de même qu’à sa première traversée, il arrive qu’un éclair soudain dévoile au jeune matelot,
sur une côte obscure, un borg tout à l’heure perdu dans l’obscurité,
ainsi le premier chagrin de l’enfant lui révèle un nouvel aspect de la vie.

Recueilli dans Le roi Fialar,
Collected in King Fialar
Garnier Frères translated Andreas Munch in 1879

From the Phantom of the Opera

"Little Lotte thought of everything and thought of nothing. A summer bird, she hovered in the golden rays of the sun, bearing on her blonde curls her spring crown. Her soul was as clear, as blue as her eyes. She cuddled her mother, was faithful to her doll, took great care of her dress, her red shoes and her violin, but above all she loved to hear the Angel of Music as she fell asleep."
.

( "The First Sorrow" from the French)
A Child's First Sorrow

THE LITTLE LOTTE thought of everything and thought of nothing. A summer bird, she hovered in the golden rays of the sun, wearing her spring crown on her blond curls. Her soul was as clear as her blue eyes.
She cuddled her mother, was faithful to her doll, took great care of her dress and red shoes; but above all she loved a little bird that her father had taken from the snow at Christmas.
The bird was on the window sill, transfixed by the cold and the winter wind. It looked, as if begging, at the warm interior of the room. The father then scattered grain in front of him, lured it out and took it in his hand for care and safety.
It was Lotte who was happy! She was allowed to take care of the little guest in the woods all by herself. She brought him his food, cradled him in his sleep and soon taught him to prick the grain in his vermeille lips.
He recognized her voice and her light step, and thanked her friend with more than one joyful song. Soon, however, he became silent and sad in his cage: he could hear the spring calling him deep in the woods.
Then he spread his wings and wanted to follow the path that God had laid out for him. Little Lotte smiled; she did not understand. She closed the cage even tighter and gave water and grain to her friend; but he only wanted the freedom without which he would give up his life.
One morning, early in the morning, she ran towards the bird with the fresh food; she sang as she ran and felt her soul rapt. But when she was in front of the cage, her song suddenly stopped... The dear bird lay on the ground, stiffened, lying on the ground.
She carefully lifted him up, kissed him tenderly, but he remained cold and lifeless: there was no mistaking it; his head fell back, death was in his eyes... Lotte, frightened, let him slide and remained motionless and silent.
And as she stood there mute, she was very peculiar to look at. A tear appeared in her sunken eyes, the tender redness of childhood disappeared from her cheeks; a dull pain penetrated little by little to her soul.
She could not guess what that pain was..., but sorrow engraved its first rune on her heart; it imprinted its image deeply upon the delicate features of the child, and that image no longer faded with the last tear.
She thought of her mother ... not with the same frivolity of yesterday; but a black pancake fell on the dawn of a new day; for just as on his first crossing, it happens that a sudden flash of lightning reveals to the young sailor, on a dark coast, a borg just now lost in the darkness, so the child's first sorrow reveals a new aspect of life.

Their stories are partly bases off religoin , fairy tales and history

«les belles, douces ou terribles légendes du pays du Nord»
the beautiful, sweet or terrible legends of the north country
"Légendes des pays du Nord" Kalevala, le grand livre des légendes finlandaises, 19th century by a certain Elias Lönnrot
The Kalevala is a 19th-century work of epic poetry compiled by Elias Lönnrot from Karelian and Finnish oral folklore and mythology that was told orally. Finnish national epic and one of the most important works in the Finnish language. First published in 1835, then in 1849.
The main character is the bard named Väinämöinen, a magician who plays the kantele, the Finnish string instrument. He is the son of Ilmatar, the goddess of Air and the mother of Water. It begins with a creation story, where the sky, the Earth, the Sun and the Moon are born from duck eggs which are placed on Ilmatar's knee and he brakes it. Väinämöinen appears from the first song.
Other important figures in the epic are the blacksmith Ilmarinen and the warrior Lemminkäinen. Ilmarinen made the sampo, a wonderful object, a mill, for Louhi, the mistress of the enemy country of Pohjola (the northern country), who in exchange promised her daughter.
To save his life after a lost oral joust, Joukahainen promises Väinämöinen to give him his sister Aino as his wife. However, Aino flees the old man's advances and drowns. Väinämöinen travels to Pohjola with the intention of wooing one of the daughters of Louhi, ruler of the northern lands. Meanwhile, in revenge, Joukahainen kills Väinämöinen's horse that falls into the sea. There an eagle catches him and carries him to Pohjola. To be able to go home, Väinämöinen promises Louhi that Ilmarinen (the Blacksmith) will forge the Sampo (a magical artifact that bring good luck and riches) for him. As a reward, he is promised the hand of one of Pohjola's daughters. After his return, Väinämöinen summoned Ilmarinen, who forged the Sampo in Pohjola. But he does not receive the promised girl in exchange. Lemminkäinen kidnaps Kyllikki, his fiancée, from Saari Island. He leaves her and travels to Pohjola, where he asks for the hand of one of Louhi's daughters in exchange for three tasks. After killing the elk of Hiisi (an evil figure of the Kalevala), and capturing his stallion, he must slaughter the swan of the river of the kingdom of the dead, the Tuonela. At the river's edge, he meets a shepherd who kills him and throws his body in pieces into the water. Lemminkäinen's mother learns of her son's death, fishes out his body parts with a rake and brings him back to life. Väinämöinen starts the construction of a ship to get to Pohjola. For this task he needs to obtain magic spells, which he leaves in vain to seek in Tuonela, the land of the dead. He finally discovers these spells in the belly of a dead giant: the magician Antero Vipunen. Ilmarinen is told about Väinämöinen's plans by his sister Annikki, and also leaves for Pohjola. The virgin of Pohjola chooses Ilmarinen, who performs the three supernatural feats set before him: he ploughs a field teeming with snakes, captures the bears of Tuoni, the wolf of Manala, and the largest pike on the Tuonela River. Finally, Ilmarinen marries the virgin of Pohjola. Ilmarinen mourns the death of his wife, and makes himself a new wife of gold. But she remains cold and Ilmarinen rejects her. With that, he begins to court, in vain, the youngest girl in Pohjola. He kidnaps her. But she cheats on him and Ilmarinen turns her into a seagull. Louhi sends diseases and plagues to ravage Kalevala. She hides the stars and steals the fire, which Väinämöinen and Ilmarinen manage to recover.
Who's works also inspired J.R.L. tolkin

les chants du grande poète Runeberg/The Songs of the Great Poet Runeberg
Johan Ludvig Runeberg
The heroic poem Fänrik Ståls Sägner (The Tales of Ensign Stål , Vänrikki Stoolin tarinat in Finnish written between 1848 and 1860 is considered the greatest Finnish epic poem outside the native Kalevala tradition and contains tales of the Finnish War of 1808–09 with Russia. "Légendes des pays du Nord" Kalevala, by Elias Lönnrot

Et Fjeldvand /Mountain water
by Andreas Munch

Original Norwegian
En Aften
Jag sad en Aften i en lille Baad
paa et af disse dybe, stille Vande,
der ligge, som et Øje blankt af Graad,
imellem Norges Fjælde. Let og varm
stod aftenhimlen om de mørke Strande
og sænkte sig i Søens klare Barm,
saa Baaden syntes let ophængt at svæve
midt i et Lufthav, hvor der ej var Bund,
men lige dybt foroven og forneden,
som Jordens Kugle midt i Evigheden.
Død Stilhed hvilte over Sø og Lund.
Der fandtes ei en Fugl, som vilde leve,
som vilde synge her en Aftenstund.
Romantisk Klang om Fjældene ej drog
paa klare Vinger, som i Tyrols Dale; -
den norske Fjældegn ejed ingen Tale,
undtagen Ensomhedens stille Sprog.
De tause Rorsfolk dypped Aaren blødt
og lydløst i de kolde, klare Vover.-
Jeg smelted hen i denne Stilhed sødt;
det var, som om min Sjæl gled sagte over
og tabte sig i inderlig Forening
med fjældnaturens dybe, dunkle Mening.

English Translation
One Evening
I sat one evening in a small boat
on one of these deep, still waters,
that lie, like a eye shining with tears,
amongst the Norwegian mountains. Light and warm
the evening sky stood over the dark beaches
sinking into the clear bosom of the lake,
so the boat seemed to float lightly suspended
in the middle of the sea air where there was no bottom,
but just above and below,
like the sphere of the earth in the middle of eternity.
Dead silence hung over lake and the grove.
There was not a single bird that was found who wanted to live, who would sing here for an evening.
No romantic sounds of the mountains drew
on clear wings, as in the valleys of Tyrol; -
the Norwegian mountains have no song
except the quiet language of solitude.
The silent helmsmen dipped their oar softly
and silently into the cold, clear waves.
I melted into this silence sweetly;
it was as if my soul slipped softly over
and lost myself in fervent union
with the deep, dark meaning of the mountain nature.

French Translation
LE LAC DE LA MONTAGNE

Un soir, j'étais assis dans une petite nacelle sur une de ces eaux tranquilles et profondes qui s'ouvrent comme un oeil brillant de pleurs au milieu des monts de la Norvège. Chaude et transparente, la brume légère du crépuscule s'étendait sur les rives assombries, et glissait au-dessus des ondes pures du lac, de sorte que la nacelle semblait légèrement suspendue dans la mer aérienne, non pas fixée;mais planant entrel'abîrne supérieur etl'abime inférieur, ainsi que le globe terrestre au sein de l'éternité. Un calme de mort reposait sur les bois et sur l'eau. Là, pas un oiseau qui voulût vivre, qui voulût chanter à l'heure du soir ; pas une mélodie qui fit frémir ses ailes sonores autour des sommets, comme il arrive dans les hautes vallées du Tyrol... Les pays du Nord ne possèdent d'autre voix que la voix paisible de la solitude. Mes bateliers muets trempaient silencieusement, mollement les rames dans les flots frais et purs. Je me sentais peu à peu fondre dans cette sérénité. C'était comme si mon âme s'élevait légèrement et s'anéantissait dans une union intime avec l'âme de la nature alpestre.

English Translation
MOUNTAIN LAKE

One evening, I was seated in a small boat on one of those calm, deep waters which open like an eye shining with tears in the midst of the mountains of Norway. Warm and clear, the light mist of twilight stretched over the darkened shores, and slid over the pure waves of the lake, so that the boat seemed lightly suspended in an aerial sea, not fixed, but hovering between the upper and the lower abysses, like the and earthly globe suspended within eternity. A deathly stillness rested on the woods and on the water. There, was not a bird that wanted to live, that wanted to sing in the evening hour; you coul not hear a melody that made its resounding wings quiver around the mountain tops, as it does in the high valleys of the Tyrol... The northern countries have no other voice than the peaceful voice of solitude. The silent boatmen quietly and softly dipped their oars in the cool and pure water. I felt myself gradually melting into this serenity. It was as if my soul was rising slightly and was dissolving in an intimate union with the soul of the mountain nature.

Hans Christian Andersen

The Nightingale

First Series

CONTENTS PAGE

THE FIR TREE1
LITTLE TUK20
THE UGLY DUCKLING30
LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS52
THE STEADFAST TIN SOLDIER67
LITTLE THUMBELINA77
SUNSHINE STORIES101
THE DARNING-NEEDLE109
THE LITTLE MATCH GIRL117
THE LOVING PAIR124
THE LEAPING MATCH129
THE HAPPY FAMILY134
THE GREENIES141
OLE-LUK-OIE, THE DREAM GOD145
THE MONEY BOX169
ELDER-TREE MOTHER174
THE SNOW QUEEN192
THE ROSES AND THE SPARROWS253
THE OLD HOUSE273
THE CONCEITED APPLE BRANCH 290
NOTES299

Second Series

CONTENTS PAGE

THE FLAX3
THE DAISY12
THE PEA BLOSSOM21
THE STORKS29
THE WILD SWANS39
THE LAST DREAM OF THE OLD OAK71
THE PORTUGUESE DUCK84
THE SNOW MAN96
THE FARMYARD COCK AND THE WEATHERCOCK107
THE RED SHOES112
THE LITTLE MERMAID124
BUCKWHEAT170
WHAT HAPPENED TO THE THISTLE174
THE PEN AND THE INKSTAND183
THE TEAPOT188
SOUP FROM A SAUSAGE SKEWER192
WHAT THE GOODMAN DOES IS ALWAYS RIGHT220
THE OLD STREET LAMP232
THE SHEPHERDESS AND THE CHIMNEY SWEEP 246
THE DROP OF WATER256
THE SWINEHERD260
THE METAL PIG269
THE FLYING TRUNK290
THE BUTTERFLY303
THE GOBLIN AND THE HUCKSTER309
EVERYTHING IN ITS RIGHT PLACE317
THE REAL PRINCESS333
THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES336
GREAT CLAUS AND LITTLE CLAUS345
NOTES367

Johan Ludvig Runeberg

Elias Lönnrot

Barzaz Breiz

Breton folklore written by Théodore de Villemarqué, 1839

Barzaz Breiz or "Ballads of Brittany" collection of popular Breton folklore songs by Théodore de Villemarqué contianig tales about fairies and dwarfs.

Kongedatterens Brudefart/The Bridal Tour of the King’s Daughter

1
Kongedatterens Brudefart
Kong Håkons Hof i Tunsberg var uden Pomp og Pragt,
Skønt Norge ingensinde var fuldere ved Magt;
Men Håkons yngste Datter gav Hoffet større Værd,
End alle Diamanters vidunderlige Skær.
Hun var saa ung og fager, saa venlig og saa blyg,
Og vidt og bredt i Verden forkyndtes hendes By!
Castilisens Konge sendte sit bedste Skib mod Nord,
De første Mænd i Staten var samlede ombord;
For En af sine Brødre, der selv var ung og prud,
Den deilige Kristina han ønskede til Brud.
Det fremmede Gesandtskab i Tunsberg blev en Tid,
Kong Håkons Faderhjerte var med sig selv i Strid.
Men Norges Hæder fordred han gav sit Eget hen,
Og lod tilsidst han kalde de spanske Riddermænd.
'I bringer Eders Konge' , saa talte han," mit Svar:
"Jeg sender ham min Datter, det Kjæreste, jeg har.
'Til Spanien hun drage, dog gi'er jeg Følge med'
"Af norske Mænd og Fruer, at vogte hendes kjed[?].
"Og mark med disses Bistand hun selv udvælge ham oveerstrøket:
"Blandt Kongens Brødre, hvilken hun ønsker B til Mand.
"Saa er det Hakons Villie; snart drage I afsted.
'Krist give Eder Lykke og mig i Savnet fred !'

2
I Afreisen.
En foraarsaften styres ud
fra Norges Kyst en fremaned Snekke;
Vemodig sidder som kaaret Brud
Kong Hakons - Datter paa Dække.

Snart svinder i, natten den graanende Kyst,
Kun Maanen i, Havet sig speiler;
Et uendeligt Suk fra Naturens Bryst
som følger den ensomme Seiler.

Kristina.
Farvel, mine fjelde, mit Fædreland!
Med Eder min Lykke forsvinder;
Min Tanke vil søge den hjemlige Strand
Og bygge blandt tusinde Minder.

Kristinas Jomfruer.
Lad Klagen tie, du Lilievaand!
Al Lykke beroer i den Eviges Haand!

Kristina.
Ei rolig jeg er lig en vildsom Fugl,
Der ud af Beden[?] er drevet;
Hvorfor maa i Syden jeg søge et Skjul,
Hvor ingen fra Nord har levet?

De fremmede tidsendte.
Snart mildner din Sorg, snart svinder din frygt;
Med evige Blomster er Syden smykt!

3
II. I Stormen.
Herligt paa Havets

Skummende Heste
Flyver med fagre
Kongedatter.
Storm staar i Seilet,
Tangene tude,
Kæmperne kalde
Høit til Kampen.

Klagende Kvinder
Kvalbundne ligge
Blege af Bæven
Paa vaade Planker.
En er kun opreist;
Se, høit i Stavnen
Skinnende staar laun,
Havkongen Hakons
Høie Datter.

Lit aander Læben
Foragt for Livet,
Stolt hæver Barmen
Sig mod det sprøitende
Salte Havskum.

4.
for hendes fødder
Dveler en fremmed
Sanger fra Syden.
Ofte Kristina
Hørte hans skjønne,
Mandige Stemme,
Naar han beskeden
Sang burde Pris,
Mens han i Tunsberg
Med de Uidsendte
Gjæsteds Hakon.

Her har nu Stormen
Skrankerne splintret;
Bønligt taler han,
Brændende bedre han -
Men hvad han taler,
Men hvad han beder,
Men hvad han sjunger,
den Sydlands Sanger -
Det kan kun Hun
Og Stormen høre.

5
Aimerik.
Skjalden.
Hør mig, du hellige, høie
Dronning paa Sø!
Aldrig skued mit Øie
Stoltere Mø!
Synslagen, henstrakt i Støvet
Vaander jeg mig;
Livsmodet er mig berøvet
Evig ved dig!

Hvad mine Tanker i Stilhed
dristigt forbrød,
Viser din himmelske Mildhed
Bort fra min Nød.
Naade, du megtige klare
Dronning paa Sø!
Kun med et Ord du mig svare, -
Lad mig ei dø!

Men i det Samme
høres et drøn; oversrøket: !
Skibet er grundstødt! -
Tanken forvirres,
Og for al frelse -
det Evigbare Liv
Styrter man uoverlagt! -
Slig i en skrøbelig Baad,
- Som overfyldes og synker! -

6
Chor.
Ak, hvilket rædselsfuldt Brag!
Revet er splintret, stormasten knekket!
Bølgerne slaa høit over dækket,
Skibet er Vrag!
Jesu! Maria! hjælpe os i Nøden!
Herre i Himlen! Lad Morgenrøden
Frelsende jage Natten paa Flugt!
Mægtige Gud! før mit Øie er lukket,
Naadig betving Stormens og stands
Bølgernes vilde dødningedans!

Af Skibets Mandskab, af Kristinas Følge
Var der dog En, som ikke glemte hende,
[overstrøket: Men som Farens Øieblik, og
Men som i Farens Øieblik beholdt
Besindelsen, og det var Asmerik.
Med Mandens overlegen Ro han slog sim Arm
Din Arm om handes vidieslanke Liv,
Besluttet paa at styrte sig i Havet
Og sige Redning ved sin egen Kraft,
Saasnart saa indsee, at det sidste Haab
Om Øiensynlig Frelse var forsvundet.
Saalænge Vraget af den sjunken række[?]
Mod Agterskibet fuldt sø over Vandet,
Han stod i Stavnen som en Billedstøtte
Og fulde Kristina i baadest

7
I det han ufravandt saa op mod Himlen. -
Og se, da Morgensolen favn sig,
Faldt Bølgerne tilside, som betvungne
Af det Ophøiede, der i Villines Kraft
Og denne Sjæls uendelige Tillid
Til den Almægtige. Kun hundred Favner
Fra Frankrige Kyst var Skibet strandet;
Em Baad,   xxx  der allerede havde bjerget
De Sorulykkede, som drev omkring.
Paa Planker, kom i rette Tid til Vraget

Og optog den besvimede Kristina
Og den, ....... saa .........skyldte Livet.

            Kristina.
Hvor er jeg? - Har jo drømt i Feberblund,
At jeg i Stormen druknet med mit Følge?
Hvad eller hviler jeg paa Havets Bund,
Hvor jeg omslynges af den fagre Bølge?
            Aimerik
Hos mig du er! - O, lad mig sige det
Med fuld Forteøstning med min egen Lykke;
Hvis du ved min Forsikring aander let,
Mit Liv formørker ei af mindste Skygge.
            Kristina
Du har mig kjær? - O, du maa ikke tro,
At jeg min egen Tanke dig fordølger;
Hod dig har mine Længsler fundet RO,
Selv under Stormen paa de vilde Bølger.

8
  Aimerik.
Det veed du ei, du Nordens vene Mø ,
Hvor Sydens Barn af Elskov kan fortæres,
Som paa sit Bryst han gjør den dybe Sø,
dets Flamme vilde deraf ikkun noras.
            Kristina.
Et Kys jeg aander paa din Pande hen;
Maaske vi aldrig tales ved igjen.
Det kan vi feide, at du jo maa vide,
At jeg, som du, vel uden Haab maa lide?
Min Ungersaand, ak, hør mig rolig ud,
Jeg ælsker dig! - men er en Andens Brud.
Dog, som et Tegn, at Skjæbnen vel kan binde
Mit Legems Vilkaar, aldrig dog min Aand,
Jeg for den Tid, da Jordens Strid er over
Med denne Ring min Sjæl med din trolover.
            Begge.
I Glæde og i Sorg er jeg dig/du mig nær,
Saalænge du min/jeg din Ring end Hjertet var.
Du/jeg vand, naar Jordens Strid engang er over,
Min Sjæl med din for evig jeg trolover!

9
Før Rygtet om den usalige Fart
Udbredte Rædsel, et Skib laa klart,
Som bragte Kristina med samt hendes Følge
For gunstig Vind over bliden Bølge.
Den Jubel, som lød paa den fremmede Strand,
Da Jomfru Kristina tager sig iland
Og følgte beskeden og venligt Enhver
Var Jomfruens Hjerte ret inderlig kjær.
Men medens man husede hendes Fruer
Med Ære i Dronnigens gyldne Stuer
Hus bad om at føres i samme Stund
Til et Kloster, der laa i en ensom Lund
Af Lærketrær og dunkle Cypresser.
Her vilde hun lytte til fromme Mester,
Her bad hun i Stilhed Nat og Dag
For at kun sit Hjertes urolige Slag.

I Klostret.
Nonnerne.
    Herre! i min Angst og Smerte
    Kommer jeg med Haab til dig;
    Du som læres i mit Hjerte,
    Kjender, hvad der tjener mig!
Kristina.
Jeg folder mine Hænder; men Tanken mangler Ro;
Thi Frykten for imorgen o mine Tanker bo.

10
Nonnerne
    Tid at have Støvets Lænker -
            Kristina.
    Tid at have Støvets Lænker -
            Nonnerne.
    Styrk min Sjæl i Jesu Tro!
            Kristina.
    Styrk min Sjæl i Jesu Tro!
            Nonnerne.
    Efter Døden du mig skænker -
            Kristina.
    Efter Døden du mig skænker -
            Nonnerne.
    Evighedens Fred og Ro!
            Kristina.
Hvad er det jeg hører? -  Jeg staar som fortryllet Sig Himlene aabne!
Forsvundet er Uro og Smerte;
Lyksalig sig vugger Paa syngende Bølger fortryllet jeg vugger
Mit før saa vemodige Hjerte!
Aimerik.
Elskte, kan du
Bag dit Klosters Vægge
Høre mig nu? -
Gid jeg kunde lægge
Hele min Hu
Paa de friske Dufte,
Dig Nattens Lufte
Sende nu!

11
Kristina.
Det er som om jeg i Aftenluften
Fik Bud fra de hjemlige Strand,
..det[?] jeg aabned mit Vindou mod Havne
For at svale den brændende Pande!
Aimerik
Elskte! fat mod,
Haabet ingensinde
Elskov forlod.
Lad det sagte rinde
gjennem dit Blod -
Haabets Drik jeg tømmer
Salig mig drømmer
Ved din Fod!

Nonnerne.
Herre! i min Angst og Smerte
Kommer jeg med Haab til dig!

Aimerik.
    Elskte! Godnat!
Frygt ei for imorgen -
I dunklest Nat
Ligger Sol forborgen.
Sank du kun mat
Dine Øienlaage,
Tro skal jeg vaage
Sidste Nat!
Nonnerne og Kristina.
Du, som læser i mit Hjerte,
Kjender, hvad der tjener mig!

12
Brudgomsvalget.
(Festmarsch).

Kongen
[overstrøket hele siden:
Kristina, skjønne Barn fra høine Nord!
Jeg efterkommet for din Faders Ord;
Jeg lod dig Tid og Ro at eftertanke,
Til hvem af mine Brødre du vil skjænke
Dit Hjerte og din Haand. - (Til dette Sted,
Hvor jeg har sammenkaldt de siste Stunder Nu
Og fremfor Alle dine norske Frender,
Har jeg fra Klostret ladet dine Fjad.)

Du ønsked Ensomhed, dengang du kom,
Retfærdig bliver derfor svag din Dom,
Og dersom dine Landsmænd ikke søgte
At efterforske mine Brødres Rygte,
Er Valget ikke let.) Min Liliesaand!
Saa hva dit Blik, og gid du maatte gjætte,
Til hvem af mine Brødre du bør sætte
Din Lid, i det du rætter ham din Haand!

13
overstrøket hele siden:
Kristina.
Til Brudgomsvalget er [jeg] Du langveis sandt,
Og [dine]mine Brødre faa [jeg]Du aldrig kjende.
    vel i lad dine landsmænd. Mening gjælder
Hvorledes skulde jeg vel kunne fælde,
Saa ung jeg er, en Dom, som burde gjælde
Blandt arekjære Mand? - Min høie Drot!
Mit Hjerte kan kun skjændes den jeg kjender,
Men tal med mine Landsmænd, mine Venner,
Og deraf Valg jeg finder vistnok godt!

        Don Philip (Kongens yngste Broder)
O, valg, Kristina, selv! - Hvi kan du Du kan ei glemme
Den ømme Omsorg i din Faders Ord?
Kristina.
Hvad hører jeg! - Hva taler med en Stemme,
I hvilken hele Verdens Velklang bor?
Don Philip.
O, valg, Kristina selv, og for din ømme,
Din engleblide Stemme for at dømme
Blandt Brødrene, - Jeg véd ...,du Du Tage vil/glæde sig,
Med dem, Tie som af os det saa, du ytre! dig,
Det veed jeg vist, med den, som hørte dig
Dengang du sang: O, du maa ikke tro,
"At jeg min egen Tanke dig fordølger;
"Hos dig her min Langsler fundet Ro,
"Selv under Stormen paa de vilde Bølger!

14
Kristina.
    Ifald jeg kan skabe din Lykke,
    Saa bind mig med evig Baand!
Don Philip
    Den Ring, som den Valgte skal Smykke
    Jeg viser nu stolt paa min Haand!
Kristina.
    Hvi nævned du ingensinde
    Dit rette Navn og din Haand?
Don Philip.
    Vad mig selv jeg vilde vinde
    Min Brud i det fremmede Land!
Kongen
    Du hentede selv, min Broder,
    I Norden din yndige Brud?
Don Philip
    Saasandt mig signe Guds Moder,
    Dertil alle Helgen hos Gud!
Kristina.
    Du vidste, du ei kunde væbne
    Dit Skib mod Vind og Veir?

15
Don Philip.
    Men jeg kunde dele Skjæbne
    Mod dig under Reisens Besvær!
Begge.
    Du/jeg vidste, du7jeg os kunde væbne
    Dit/mit Skib mod Vind og Veir;
    Men du/jeg kunde dele Skjæbne
    Med mig/dig under Reisens Besvær!
Kongen
    Nu Kirkeklokkerne tone
    Til Tak for den kjærlige Haand,
    Som rakte for Lients[?] Room,
    Som bandt saa ømt et Baand!
Choret.
    Under KirklokkernesKlang,
    Under Kanonernes Torden
    Vil Brudgomsvalget over Sø og Hav,
    Forkyndes i Syd og i Norden.
    Tilykke, du unge deilige Mø,
    Som vover det Liv paa salte Sø!
Tillykke du unge ærlige Saand[?]
    Tillykke, du kranete[?] Sanger i Syd!
    du Sangernes Fyrste og Fyrsternes Pryd!

16
Don Philip
    Nei, du Kristina, der bør Dommen falde
Kristina
    Hvad hører jeg! - Hvo Ut[-] en Stemme
    I hvilken hele Verdens Velkling bor
Don Rhilip.
    O, salig Kristina! selv. Nu kan du glemme
    Den ømme Omsorg din Faders Ord.

17
Brudgomsvalget.
Festmarsch.
Kongen
    Kristina, skjønne Born fra høien Nord!
    Jeg efterkommet har din Faders Ord;
    Jeg lod dig Tid og Ro at eftertænke,
    Til hvem af mine Brødre du vil skænke
    Dit Hjerte og sin Haand. - Til dette Sted,
    Hvor jeg har indbudt alle Rigets Stænder.
    Og fremfor Alle dine norske Frænder,
    Har jeg fra Klostret ledet dine Fjed.

    I Cellen har du Ingen villet se,
    Du tænkte, ved jeg: Himlens Villie ske!
    Og gudhengiven vil du lade gjælde
    Din Dom, som dine Landsmænd monne fælde.

Don Philip /Kongens yngste Brud
O,  vælg nei, Kristina, vælg! - Hvi kan du glemme,
Om ømme Omsorg i din Faders Ord?
Kristina.
Hvad hører jeg! - Hva taler med os Stemme,
I hvilken hele Verdens Vilklang bor?
Don Philip
Du sang engang: "O, du maa ikke tro,
"At jeg naar egen Tanke dig fordølger;
"Selv under Stormen paa de vilde Bølger!

1
The King's Daughter Bridal cruse
King Håkons court in Tunsberg was without a pomp and splendor,
Though Norway was never fuller by power;
But Hakon's youngest daughter gave greater hope and value,
Than all the wonderful Diamonds marvellous wonder.
She was so young and beautiful, so kind and so shy,
And far and wide in the world her city was proclaimed!
The King of Castile sent his best Ship to the North,
The first men in the state were assembled on board;
For one of his brothers who was young and brutish,
The lovely Kristina he wanted for a Bride.
The foreign envoy in Tunsberg became a time,
King Håkon's Father's Heart was in war with himself.
But the Norse honor demanded he give one of his own,
And finally he called the Spanish Knights.
"You bring your King," he said, "my answer:
"I'm sending him my Daughter, the sweetest I have.
'To Spain she go, however, I'll give'
"Of Norwegian Men and Women, to guard her chain.
"And mark with their assistance she herself selected him over:
"Among the King's brethren, which she desires to husband.
"Then it is Hakon's will; you will soon depart.
"Christ grant you happiness and me in missing peace!"

2
Our departure.
A spring evening is guided
from the coast of Norway by a forward carpenter;
Graciously sits like the bride
King Hakons - Daughter on the deck.

Soon, in the night, the soggy coast fades,
Only the moon in, The sea reflects;
An endless sigh from the bosom of Nature
that follows the lonely sailor.

Kristina.
Goodbye, my mountains, my homeland!
With you my happiness disappears;
My Thought Will Seek The Domestic Beach
And Build Among Thousand Memories.

Kristina's maids.
Let the Complain Silence, you Lily Night!
All happiness touches the hand of the Eternal!

Kristina.
Don't worry, I'm like a wild bird
driven out of bed;
Why in the South must I seek a hideout.
where no one from the North has lived?

The stranger's term ended.
Soon your sorrow will ease, soon your fears will subside;
With everlasting flowers, the South is beautiful!

3
II. In the Storm.
Lovely on the sea

Foamy Horses of the sea
Flying with thr beautiful
King's Daughter.
Storm is standing on the sail,
the pliers spout,
the fighters call out
loud to the fight.

Complaining Women
Nervous are lying
pale by the trembling
on wet planks.
One is only raised;
Look, high in the Stavnen
Shining star wages,
The King of the Sea
Hakon's High Daughter.

Let you lips breath
contempt for life,
Proudly raises bosom
Say hello to the splashing
Salted Sea Foam

4
at her foot
Dwells a foreign
singer from the South.
Often Kristina
Heard his lovely,
male voice
As his humble songs,
should cost
while in Tunsberg
with the chatter
of the unspoken guest.

Here the Storm Skranks now
The counters splintered;
Proudly he speaks,
Burning better he -
But what he speaks,
But what he prays,
But what he sings,
the singer of the Southland -
Only she and
the storm can hear.

5
Aimerik.
The bard.
Hear me, you holy ones, high
Queen at sea!
Never hurt my eye
Proudly mare!
The vision, drawn in the dust
I wander;
I am deprived of my life
forever by you!

What my thoughts in silence
boldly broke,
Shows your heavenly gentleness
Away from my distress.
Grace, you mighty clear
Queen at sea!
Only with one word do you answer me -
Don't let me die!

But in the same
a drone sounds; overcrowded:!
The ship is grounded! -
The thought is confused,
And for all salvation -
eternal life
You steer unconsciously! -
Like a fragile boat,
- That overflows and sinks! -

6
Chor.
Alas, what a horrible brag!
The reef is shattered, the mast is cracking!
The waves are hitting high above the deck,
the ship is wrecked!
Jesus! Mary! help us in distress!
Lord in Heaven! Let the morning dawn
Savior chase the night on away!
Mighty God! before my eye close,
Graciously subdued the storms and stands
The wild waves doing the dance of death!

Of the ship's crew, of Kristina's order,
however, there was one who did not forget her,
But as the Father's eye, and
But as retained in the Father's Moment,
The thought, and it was Asmerik.
With the man's superior composure, he struck Sim Arm
Your Arm about the slender life of his hands,
resolved to crash into the sea
and say salvation by his own power,
so soon realized that the last hope
of apparent salvation had disappeared.
As long as the wreck of the sunken row
Towards the stern full lake across the water,
He stood in the bar as a picture support
and full Kristina on the base

7
As he unfurled, he looked up at the sky. -
And behold, as the morning sun rose,
The waves fell aside, as if forced
by the Exalted, in the Power of Villines
And the Infinite Trust of this Soul
To the Almighty. Only a hundred Favner
From the coast of France the ship was stranded;
Em Baad, xxx who already had the mountainof
the Sorority, who was floating around.
On planks, arrive in time for the wreckage

and take in the fainted Kristina
And the one ....... so ......... owed life.

Kristina
Where Am I? - I Have dreamed of Feberblund.
That I in the Storm drowned with my companion? What or do I rest on the bottom of the sea, where I am surrounded by the beautiful wave?
Aimerik
You are with me ! - Oh, let me say it
with complete satisfaction with my own happiness;
you have my insurance breath easily,
My Life darkens not the slightest shadow.
Kristina
You love me? - Oh, you must not believe,
That I my own thoughts persists you;
Have you found my longings RO,
Even during the storm on the wild waves.

8
Aimerik.
You do not know, your Nordic friend,
Where the Children of the South may be devoured,
As on his breast he makes the deep lake,
its flame thereof, nor noras.
Kristina.
A kiss I breathe on your forehead;
Maybe we will never speak again.
We can say that you must know,
That I, like you, must suffer without hope?
My Hungarian evening, alas, hear me calm down,
I love you! - but is a Bride of the Other.
However, as a sign that destiny may well bind
The Terms of My Body, Never though My Spirit,
I for the time, when the battle of the earth is over
With this ring my soul with your betrothed.
Both.
In Joy and in Sorrow I am near you,
As long as you are mine / I your ring than the Heart was.
You / I wait when the Earth's battle is over,
My Soul with yours forever I trust!

9
Before the report of the dreadful speed
widespread horror, a ship lay clear,
which carried Kristina as well as her companion
for favorable wind over the gentle waves.
The cheering that sounded on the strange beach
as maid the Kristina went ashore
and followed the message and friendly anyone
the maids heart was quite dearly loved.
But while honoring her wives
with honor in the golden rooms of the Queen
the house asked at the same time
to be taken to a monastery that lay in a lonely grove
of larch trees and dark cypress trees.
Here she wanted listen to pious Master,
Here she silently prayed night and day
For only the troubleded beating of her heart.

In the Monastery.
The nuns.
Mister! in my fear and pain
Do I bring hope to you;
You who are taught in my Heart,
Know what serves me!
Kristina.
I fold my hands; but the thought lacks calm;
For the fear of tomorrow O my thoughts dwell.

10
The nuns
Time to have the Dust Links -
Kristina.
Time to have the Dust Links -
The nuns.
Strengthen My Soul in Jesus' Faith!
Kristina.
Strengthen My Soul in Jesus' Faith!
The nuns.
After death you give me -
Kristina.
After death you give me -
The nuns.
Peace and eternity!
Kristina.
What am I hearing? - I stand as enchanted say the heavens
open!
Disappeareance is turmoil and pain;
Blissful rocking singing waves enchanted I cradle
My once so sad heart!
Aimerik.
Beloved, please
Can you behind the walls of your monastery
Hear me now? -
I wish I could put up
My whole mind to
the fresh scents,
And send you the night's
air now!

11
Kristina.
It's like I'm in the evening air
Got a Bid from the Homely Beach,
... it [?] I opened my Vindou towards Ports
To cool the burning pan!
Aimerik
Beloved! take courage,
Hope for all
Love abandoned.
Let it gently flow
through your Blood -
Drink of Hope I empty
Bless my dreams
At Your Feet!

The nuns.
Master! in my anxiety and pain
Do I bring hope to you!

Aimerik.
Beloved! Good night!
Fear not for tomorrow -
In the darkest Night
The Sun lies hidden.
You only sink when it's
Your eyelids,
Faith I must watch
Last Night!
The nuns and Kristina.
You who reads what's in my Heart,
Knows what serves me!

12
Groommen.
(Goes marching).

The King
[Overlaid whole page:
Kristina, lovely child from the High North!
I obeyed the words of your Father;
I gave you quiet time to reflect ,
To which of my Brethren you will give
Your Heart and Your Hand. - (To this place,
Where I have called the last moments
And above all your Norwegian friends,
Did I charge your enemy from the monastery?)

You desired solitude when you came,
Therefore, justify your weak judgment,
And if your countrymen did not seek
To investigate the reputation of my brothers,
Isn't the choice easy?) My Lilies spirit!
So what is your gaze, and I hope you will choose,
To which of my Brethren you should put
Your trust, in that you hand him your hand!

13
overlaid the entire page:
Kristina.
For the groom's choice, [I] You are far from true
And [your] my brothers will you never know me.
Well let your countrymen. Opinion applies
How could I trap,
How well should I be able to convict, as young as I am, a judgment that should apply to dear men?- My high Drot!
My Heart can only be disputed by the one I know,
But talk to my countrymen, my friends,
And of that choice I think is good!

Don Philip (The King's Youngest Brother)
Oh, choice, Kristina, herself! - Why you can You can't forget
The tender care of your Father's Word?
Kristina.
What do I hear! - What speaks to a Voice,
Where does the whole world of reverberation live?
Don Philip.
Oh, choice, Kristina herself, and for your tender,
angelic voice to your judge
Among the brothers, - I know ... you Take / rejoice,
With them, Tie which of us it as you express! you,
I know that, with the one who heard you
When you sang: Oh, you must not believe,
"That I my own Thought persecute you;
"With you here my longs found peace,
"Even during the storm of the wild waves!

14
Kristina.
If I can create your Happiness,
Then bind me with an band!
Don Philip
The ring that the Chosen One will adorn
I now proudly show my hand!
Kristina.
Why did you ever mention
Your proper name and your hand?
Don Philip.
What myself I wanted to win
My Bride in the Foreign Land!
King
You picked yourself, my Brother,
In the north your lovely bride?
Don Philip
Sending me blessings the Mother of God,
To that, all the saints of God!
Kristina.
You knew you couldn't arm
Your Ship Against Wind and Rain?

15
Don Philip.
But I could share Fate
Against you during the trouble of the journey!
Both.
You / I knew you could arm us
Your / My Ship Against Wind and Rain;
But you / I could share Fate
With me / you during the trouble of the journey!
King
Now the church bells tone
Thanks to the loving hand,
Which stretched for Lient's [?] Room,
Who tied so tender a ribbon!
Chorus.
Under the bells of the bells,
During the Thunder of Cannons
Will the bridegroom choice over sea and sea,
Proclaimed in the South and in the North.
Congratulations, you lovely young Mothers,
Who dares to live on a salty lake!
Do you congratulate young honest Sand [?]
Congratulations, you crane [?] Singer in the South!
thou chief of the singers and the ornaments of the princes!

16
Don Philip
No, you Kristina, there the Judgment should fall
Kristina
What do I hear! - Who Out [-] and Voices
In which all the Wealth of the World resides
Don Rhilip.
Oh, bless Kristina! self. Now you can forget
The tender Care of Your Father's Word.

17
Groomsmen.
Festmarsch.
King
Kristina, lovely child from the High North!
I have obeyed the words of your Father;
I gave you quiet time to reflect,
To which of my Brethren you will give
Your Heart and His Hand. - To this place,
Where I have invited all the kingdoms of the kingdom.
And above all your Norwegian friends,
Have I led your footsteps from the monastery?

In the Cell you have no one wanted to see,
You thought, I know: Heaven's Will happen!
And you will be god-devoted
Your judgment which your countrymen will catch.

Don Philip / King's youngest Bride
Oh, choose no, Kristina, choose! - How can you forget,
About tender Care in Your Father's Word?
Kristina.
What do I hear! - What Voice speaks to us,
In which all the worlds will live?
Don Philip
You once sang, "Oh, you must not believe,
"That I, in my own thought, persecute you;
"Even during the storm of the wild waves!

"Sir Oluf, and the Elf-King's Daughter."
Popular ballads and songs: by Robert Jamieson
(1806)
Transalted from Danish

Sir Oluf the hend has ridden sae wide,
All unto his bridal deast to bid.
And lightly the elves, sae feat and free,
They dance all under the greenwooden tree!
And there danced four, and threre danced five;
The Elf-King's duaghter she reekit bilive.
Her hand to sir Oluf sae fair and free:
"O welcome, sir Oluf, come dance wi' me!
"O welcome, sir Oluf! now lat thy love gay,
And tread wi' me in the dance sae gay."
"To dance wi' thee ne dare I, ne may;
The Morn it is my bridal day."
"O come, sir Oluf, and dance wi' me;
Twa buckskin boots I'll give to thee;
"Twa buckskin boots, that sit sae fair,
Wi' gilded spurs sae rich and rare.
"And hear ye, sir Oluf! come dance wi' me;
And a silken sark I'll give to thee;
"A silken sark sae white and fine,
That my mother bleach in the moonshine."
"I darena, I maunna come dance wi' thee;
For the morn my bridal day maun be."
"O hear ye, Sir Oluf! come dance wi' me,
And a helmet o' goud I'll give to thee."
"A helmet o' goud I well may ha'e;
But dance wi' thee ne dare I, ne may."
"And winna thou dance, Sir Oluf, wi' me?
Then sickness and pain shall follow thee!"
She's smitten Sir Oluf--it strak to his heart;
He never before had kent sic a smart;
Then lifted him up on his ambler red;
"And now, Sir Oluf, ride hame to thy bride."
And whan he came till the castell yett,
His mither she stood and leant thereat.
"O hear ye, Sir Oluf, my ain dear son,
Whareto is your lire sae blae and wan?"
"O well may my lire be wan and blae,
For I ha'e been in the elf-womens' play."
"O hear ye, Sir Oluf, my son, my pride,
And what shall I say to thy young bride?"
"Ye'll say, that I've ridden but into the wood,
To prieve gin my horse and hounds are good."
Ear on the morn, whan night was gane,
The bride she cam wi' the bridal train.
They skinked the mead, and they skinked the wine:
"O whare is Sir Oluf, bridegroom mine?"
"Sir Oluf has ridden but into the wood,
To prieve gin his horse and hounds are good."
And she took up the scarlet red,
And there lay Sir Oluf, and he was dead!
Ear on the morn, whan it was day,
Three likes were ta'en frae the castle away;
Sir Oluf the leal, and his bride sae fair,
And his mither, that died wi' sorrow and care.
And lightly the elves sae feat and free,
They dance all under the greenwood tree!

Elverskud or Elveskud from the German as Erlkönigs Tochter/Erl-king's Daughter
Many ride tall and red
but in the morning sick and dead.

Peder Syv in 1695

Mangen rider rank og rød,
er dog morgen krank og død.

1. Hr. Olof han rider så vide
alt til sit bryllup at byde.
Men dansen den går så let gennem lunden.

2. Der danse fire, og der danse fem,
ellekongens datter rækker hånden frem.

3. "Velkommen, hr. Oluf, lad fare din fig,
bi lidet og træd her i dansen med mig.«

4. Jeg ikke tør, jeg ikke må:
imorgen skal mit bryllup stå.«

5. Hør du, hr. Oluf, træd dansen med mig:
to bukkeskinds støvler så giver jeg dig.

6. To bukkeskinds støvler, sidder vel om ben,
forgyldene spore derom spændt.

7. Hør du, hr. Ole, træd dansen med mig:
en silkeskjorte giver jeg dig.

8. En silkeskjorte så hvid og fin,
den blegte min moder ved måneskin.«

9. Jeg ikke tør, jeg ikke må:
i morgen skal mit bryllup stå.«

10. Hør du, hr. Oluf, træd dansen med mig:
et hoved af guld så giver jeg dig.«

11. "Et hoved af guld kan jeg vel få,
men danse med dig tør jeg ej så.«

12. »Og vil du ikke danse med mig,
sot og sygdom skal følge dig.«

13. Hun slog hannem mellem sine hærde,
aldrig var han slagen værre

14. Hun Iøfted hr. Oluf på ganger rød:
»Og rid nu hjem til din fæstemØ.«

15. Der han kom til borgeled,
der står hans moder og hviler ved

16. "Hør du, hr. Oluf, kær sønnen min
hvi bær' du nu så bleg en kind?«

17. Og jeg må vel bære kinden bleg,
for jeg har været i ellekonenes leg

18. Hør du, hr. Ole, min sØn så prud:
hvad skal jeg svare din unge brud?«

19. I skal sige, jeg er udi lunde,
at prøve min hest og så mine hunde.«

20 .Årle om morgen, dag det var,
da kom den brud med brudeskar'.

21. De skænkte mjød, og de skænkte vin:
»Hvor er hr. Ole, brudgom min?«

22. Hr. Oluf han red sig hen i lunde,
han prøved sin hest og så sine hunde.«

23. Hun tog op det skarlagen rød:
der lå hr. Oluf og var død.

24. Årle om morgen, dag det var,
der komme tre lig af hr. Oles gård.

25. Hr. Oluf og hans fæstemø,
hans moder blev og af sorgen død.
Men dansen den går så let gennem lunden.

Many ride tall and red
but in the morning sick and dead.

1. Sir Olof he rides so far
to his wedding to offer his hand,
and the dance goes so lightly through the grove.

2. There dance four, and there dance five,
elfking's daughter reaches out her hand.

3. "Welcome, Sir Oluf, let thy burdens go,
stay a little, and dance with me."

4. "I don't dare, I may not:
tomorrow I will be wed."

5. "Listen, Sir Oluf, dance with me,
two buckskin boots I will give to thee."

6. Two buckskin boots, fitting well around the legs,
gilded spurs buckled on."

7. Listen, Sir Oluf, dance with me,
a silken shirt I will give to thee."

8. A silken shirt so white and fine,
my mother bleached it in the moonshine."

9. "I don't dare, I don't have to:
tomorrow I will be wed."

10. "Listen, Sir Oluf, dance with me,
a lump [lit. "a head"] of gold I will give to thee."

11. "A lump of gold I can receive,
but dance with thee I dare not."

12. "And if thou wilt not dance with me,
plague and disease will follow thee."

13. She struck him between his shoulders,
never had he been hit harder.

14. She lifted Sir Oluf onto the horse red,
"Ride back to thy betrothed maiden."

15. Then he came to his castle gate,
that his mother is resting beside.

16. "Listen, Sir Oluf, my son,
why are thy cheeks so pale?

17. "My cheeks are pale,
because I've been in the elf-wives' gate."

18. "Listen, Sir Ole, my son so proud,
what should I tell thy young bride?"

19. "I will say I'm outside in the grove,
to ride my horse, and try my dogs."

20. Then in the morning, day it was,
came the bride in her bride-gown.

21. "They gave me mead, they gave me wine,
where is Sir Ole, my groom?"

22. "Sir Oluf rode into the grove,
he's trying his horse, and his dogs."

23. She took up the scarlet red,
there lay Oluf, and he was dead.

24. Early in morning, day it was,
there comes three corpses off Sir Ole's farm.

25. Sir Oluf and his bride to be,
his mother died from sorrow.
but the dance goes lightly through the grove.

Erlkönig/ The Elf King
by
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe 1782
from Danish ballad Elveskud

Danish

Literal Translation

Edgar Alfred Bowring

Wer reitet so spät durch Nacht und Wind?
Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind;
Er hat den Knaben wohl in dem Arm,
Er faßt ihn sicher, er hält ihn warm.

Mein Sohn, was birgst du so bang dein Gesicht? –
Siehst, Vater, du den Erlkönig nicht?
Den Erlenkönig mit Kron' und Schweif? –
Mein Sohn, es ist ein Nebelstreif.

"Du liebes Kind, komm, geh mit mir!
Gar schöne Spiele spiel' ich mit dir;
Manch' bunte Blumen sind an dem Strand,
Meine Mutter hat manch gülden Gewand." –

Mein Vater, mein Vater, und hörest du nicht,
Was Erlenkönig mir leise verspricht? –
Sei ruhig, bleibe ruhig, mein Kind;
In dürren Blättern säuselt der Wind. –

"Willst, feiner Knabe, du mit mir gehn?
Meine Töchter sollen dich warten schön;
Meine Töchter führen den nächtlichen Reihn,
Und wiegen und tanzen und singen dich ein." –

Mein Vater, mein Vater, und siehst du nicht dort
Erlkönigs Töchter am düstern Ort? –
Mein Sohn, mein Sohn, ich seh' es genau:
Es scheinen die alten Weiden so grau. –

"Ich liebe dich, mich reizt deine schöne Gestalt;
Und bist du nicht willig, so brauch' ich Gewalt." –
Mein Vater, mein Vater, jetzt faßt er mich an!
Erlkönig hat mir ein Leids getan! –

Dem Vater grauset's; er reitet geschwind,
Er hält in Armen das ächzende Kind,
Erreicht den Hof mit Mühe und Not;
In seinen Armen das Kind war tot.

Who rides, so late, through night and wind?
It is the father with his child.
He has the boy well in his arm
He holds him safely, he keeps him warm.

My son, why do you hide your face in fear? –
Father, do you not see the Elf-king?
The Elf-king with crown and cape? –
My son, it is a streak of fog. –

"You dear child, come, go with me!
(Very) beautiful games I play with you;
Many colorful flowers are on the beach,
My mother has many a golden robe." –

My father, my father, and do you not hear
What the Elf-king quietly promises me? –
Be calm, stay calm, my child;
Through dry leaves the wind is sighing. –

"Do you, fine boy, want to go with me?
My daughters shall wait on you finely;
My daughters lead the nightly dance,
And rock and dance and sing to bring you in." –

My father, my father, and don't you see there
The Elf-king's daughters in the gloomy place? –
My son, my son, I see it clearly:
There shimmer the old willows so grey. –

"I love you, your beautiful form excites me;
And if you're not willing, then I will use force." –
My father, my father, he's touching me now!
The Elf-king has done me harm! –

It horrifies the father; he swiftly rides on,
He holds the moaning child in his arms,
Reaches the farm with great difficulty;
In his arms, the child was dead.

Le lodge de Mlle. Christine Daaé
Christine's Dressing

Papa's Daaé's favorite stories

Et Fjeldvand /Mountain water
by Andreas Munch

Hans Christian Andersen

Johan Ludvig Runeberg

Elias Lönnrot

Barzaz Breiz

Kongedatterens Brudefart/The Bridal Tour of the King’s Daughter

"Sir Oluf, and the Elf-King's Daughter."
Popular ballads and songs: by Robert Jamieson
(1806)
Transalted from Danish

Play's and Operas

Henrik Ibsen

Le lodge de Mlle. Christine Daaé​Christine's Dressing

Papa's Daaé's favorite stories

Et Fjeldvand /Mountain waterby Andreas Munch

Hans Christian Andersen

Johan Ludvig Runeberg

Elias Lönnrot

Barzaz Breiz​

​Kongedatterens Brudefart/​The Bridal Tour of the King’s Daughter

"Sir Oluf, and the Elf-King's Daughter."Popular ballads and songs: by Robert Jamieson​(1806)Transalted from Danish

Play's and Operas

Henrik Ibsen

Le lodge de Mlle. Christine Daaé
Christine's Dressing

Et Fjeldvand /Mountain water
by Andreas Munch

Barzaz Breiz

Kongedatterens Brudefart/The Bridal Tour of the King’s Daughter

"Sir Oluf, and the Elf-King's Daughter."
Popular ballads and songs: by Robert Jamieson
(1806)
Transalted from Danish